


The "Demonic Dishwasher"-incident.

by blackphantomwolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Drabble, Gen, Humor, Men of Letters Bunker, Mentions of past Dean/Lisa, No Romance, Timestamp, but fairly in character I hope, slight crack, there are some swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackphantomwolf/pseuds/blackphantomwolf
Summary: "Dean, I'm pretty sure our dishwasher is possessed" Sam said, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows furrowed. The concern displayed on his face, in his eyes, and even in his tone of voice was genuine."O-okay? Well, what makes you say that? I seriously doubt Crowley stashed a demon into our dishwasher to keep track of how much coffee we drink" Dean quipped dryly, making Sam sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it was beyond him how Dean never took him seriously, considering the ridiculous things they had both seen through the years. The suicidal teddy bear was high up on that list for sure, among other things like that time Dean was scared of Scooby Doo and stray cats."Well, so it's haunted then, just... Just see for yourself"





	The "Demonic Dishwasher"-incident.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TirilHS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TirilHS/gifts).



> This fic is entirely inspired by something that happened at my friend's school, and usually I procrastinate but when I tell someone I'm gonna write something I write it.  
> Enjoy.

Life in The Men of Letters bunker was by far the most relaxed and peaceful life the Winchester brothers had ever known. Yes, there was still the looming threat of whatever decided to go bump in the night, but with all the warding and precautions the bunker allowed they could finally have some downtime. Some time to themselves in between cases where the two of them weren't stuck in the car or a ratty motel room, practically no privacy and an overhanging threat of waking each other up just by shifting in their sleep. So yeah, life in the bunker was sweet, and after having been an insomniac on-and-off for practically his entire life, Dean found himself indulging in the habit of sleeping in more often than not. And generally that was no problem, because heck, they had their own rooms now! Which mean that whenever Sam decided to go for a run or do the salad dance or whatever he got up to early in the morning these days, Dean didn't even notice it. Today, however, was apparently a different kind of day entirely. 

It started with some sort of thump that stirred Dean out of his sleep. Well, more like a yell and then a thump, if he was thinking about it. His hand was already on the shaft of the silver knife hidden under his pillow, heart beating fast, before he remembered that there was no way Sam was stupid enough to open the goddamn door and somehow managing to invite something evil into the bunker. With that thought soothing him, Dean let his head flop back down on the pillow with a small grunt. He glanced at his phone, pleased that it was still early by his new vacation-in-the-bunker-between-hunts schedule, and let his eyes slip shut. There was a moment of silence before he heard rustling and more thumps, and what was definitively a panicked strain of curses coming closer and closer as he heard Sam's heavy boots rushing down the corridor towards his room.  
"Dude, did you slip on a banana peel or what? Because that's exactly what that sounded like just now" Dean drawled tiredly while he very reluctantly sat up on his bed as Sam practically slammed his door open without even knocking. Rude. 

The intensity of the bitchface the younger Winchester sent his way was beyond amusing, and Dean ducked his head under the pretense of picking up his discarded bathrobe from the floor, just in case Sam would in fact kill him for laughing at him. Oh, yeah, that was another perk of having a safe place to sleep- no need to be alert at all times and sleep in your jeans anymore.  
"No, Dean, I did not slip on a banana peel." Sam said with an air of seriousness that was somehow still amusing to Dean, which should say something about how much he needed to just stay asleep.  
"Then what?" Dean asked as he threw on his robe and started to arrange his pillows. A small thumping and a... dripping sound? was coming from Sam's general direction, and Dean looked up from where he was making his bed only to notice that Sam's jeans were dripping some sort of murky soapy water onto his floor as a result of his brother's impatient tapping of his foot.  
"What?" Dean snapped, standing upright and giving Sam the best imitation of his bitchface he could muster up.

"Dean, I'm pretty sure our dishwasher is possessed" Sam said, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows furrowed. The concern displayed on his face, in his eyes, and even in his tone of voice was genuine.  
"O-okay? Well, what makes you say that? I seriously doubt Crowley stashed a demon into our dishwasher to keep track of how much coffee we drink" Dean quipped dryly, making Sam sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it was beyond him how Dean never took him seriously, considering the ridiculous things they had both seen through the years. The suicidal teddy bear was high up on that list for sure, among other things like that time Dean was scared of Scooby Doo and stray cats.  
"Well, so it's haunted then, just... Just see for yourself" Sam insisted, clearly annoyed with how slowly things were moving. Usually Dean had always been the one up on his feet first, but apparently that had changed, and now that Sam was waking him up because of something that was not only their type of problem, but also their actual problem seeing as it was happening in the bunker, he was acting like a sloth? He would have to give Dean a piece of his mind later, though, because the malevolent whatever occupying their dishwasher was currently at the top of his priority list. 

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed as he let Sam take the lead as he was apparently in a huge rush to get to the kitchen.  
"What the hell do we even do about the dishwasher, though? I mean, what did it do to you?" he asked, laughter evident in his voice. It was a huge effort not to laugh out loud at the death glare Sam was giving him as Dean imagined the dishwasher opening itself up and the drawers in it rolling out to push his brother over, and Dean had to bite down so hard on his tongue he was sure he was drawing blood.  
"I don't know, Dean!" Sam replied frantically, throwing his arms up in frustration. "I threw salt at it, I tried an exorcism, but it just won't stop!"  
Dean had to go from biting his tongue to biting down on his bottom lip instead, feeling laughter still bubbling up in his chest. The image of Sam Winchester, a tall and muscular guy who had killed countless of evil sons of bitches, desperately throwing salt at a dishwasher? Shit, Dean actually wished he had gotten up early that morning if only to see that. 

They walked into the kitchen, and it was immediately evident to anyone who had lived a fairly normal life where they had in fact used a dishwasher before what exactly the problem was. Dean brought the back of his hand up to his mouth as he tried his best to cover up a snort of laughter with a very fake cough as he looked around the room. The floor was practically flooding in big clouds of foamy soap bubbles, and the dishwasher was still on, spewing out more bubbles as they were standing there. By one of the entrances to the kitchen there was a slope track in the soap, which was what finally made Dean double over laughing, his eyes stinging with tears as he tried to catch his breath. Sam had very obviously walked into the kitchen completely unaware of the condition of the floor and slipped, which was what had caused the thump that initially woke Dean up, and the thought of that made Dean burst into another bout of laughter the moment he had finally calmed down.  
"This isn't funny, Dean! The plug is in the back and it didn't stop when I pressed the off-button!" Sam snapped, brushing off the hand his older brother had put on his shoulder to steady himself as he laughed so hard he was barely able to breathe. Sam felt like he had been zapped into some universe where haunted or possessed furniture was the most hilarious thing anyone could encounter, and he just wasn't in on the joke.

"Yeah, sorry Sam, you're right- it's not funny it's hysterical" Dean said, letting out a small huff as he slapped Sam on the back, trying to catch his breath. He decided that he could use a shower anyway and therefore didn't mind stepping into the practical bubble bath surrounding the dishwasher, then held the off-button for three seconds and threw his hands out in a comical shrug upon seeing the shocked and confused look on Sam's face when the dishwasher promptly shut down.  
"Problem solved" Dean said smugly, snorting out a laugh. "It's not haunted, Sammy, it's just... been used by a moron apparently" he stated.  
Sam threw up a bitchface and crossed his arms again, giving Dean a pointed stare.  
"I'm not a moron, it's obviously broken."  
"Yeah, and I'm Batman" Dean replied, shaking his head as he opened the cupboard under the sink. "What did you use?"  
"I don't follow, Dean-"  
"What did you use?"  
Sam let out a sigh and stepped over as well. He was already pretty much covered in soap as it was, so stepping through it didn't exactly add to the problem. Without a second thought he picked up the bottle of dishwasher liquid, still glaring at Dean, because now he was just being ridiculous. Did his brother think Sam had hit his head really hard and had suddenly become an idiot or something? It sure seemed like it, what with testing him about soap like he was a child. Dean let out another snort of laughter and Sam could practically feel his own glare and accompanying frown becoming deeper.  
"We're so fucking related, it's ridiculous" Dean mumbled, leaving Sam even more confused than he had initially been when the dishwasher seemed to display signs of a haunting. He waited for Dean to elaborate, seeing as Sam wasn't getting anywhere with being demanding this morning. Everything, even the ridiculing of Sam, had to be done at the speed of a snail apparently.

Dean looked up at Sam with a huge grin on his face, shaking his head as he was still laughing to himself.  
"I did exactly the same thing the first time I, uh-" his face fell for a moment so brief that only someone who knew him very well would be able to pick up on it, before Dean managed to pick up the grin again. "The first time I put on the dishwasher when I lived with Lisa... Man, she was pissed! She thought I did it as a joke, and then when she realized I actually didn't know how to operate a goddamn dishwasher she went all therapist on my ass- y'know, whatever. You gotta use dishwasher detergent, as in powder or tablets, I mean- this is the dishwasher equivalent of pouring shampoo in with the laundry" Dean explained, dragging his hand over his own face while he looked for the correct box. Once he found it he promptly pushed the box into Sam's hands and patted him on the shoulder.  
"I'm gonna hit the shower while you clean up this mess. Piece of advice- don't try to vacuum up the soap, they don't like that." Dean called out on his way out of the kitchen.  
Sam was left staring at the box in his hand, a goofy laugh escaping him at the thought of his brother vacuuming up foam. Vacuum cleaners can't handle liquids, whoever doesn't know that could be considered a moron. He looked up at the foamy and wet floor, sighing as he put away what was apparently the wrong soap, shaking his head to himself. Apparently they were both morons.


End file.
